this is the road to ruin (and we're starting at the end)
by Twins 'n Fandoms
Summary: She thinks that it's not everyday a charmingly handsome biker passes by. Maybe there is, but it's also not everyday said charmingly handsome biker stares back at her. (Modern!Phildosia AU)
1. Chapter 1

**So, uh. ****This was supposed to be a one-shot but I divided it into three parts because I didn't know how to move on from whatever awkward shit happened between Theo and Pip.**

**This one is a bit short, and it's on Theo's POV. Enjoy!**

* * *

It's on a cold and early Saturday morning where Theodosia comes downstairs to a comforting aroma of freshly grounded coffee in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Dad," she walks through the hallway to see her father leaning against the counter and beside the coffee maker.

Aaron Burr hands over her own mug as he smiles. "Good morning, Theo."

Without meaning to, she hops on the counter. She smiles back and takes a sip as the warmth of the drink spreading from her palms through out her body. A reminder of the old days.

And she almost spits it back. She freezes, her eyes darting back to her father, with his no-sitting-on-the-counter-rule and the painful memory reminding him of their recent loss. But instead, he looks at his mug thoughtfully like he hadn't noticed her. A little wistfully, she supposed. But she'd take it better than the sudden sobbing and the emotional breakdowns that they both would get in the early hours of the day.

"Theo?"

She blinks. "Yes, Dad?"

"Do you have any plans today?" His nonchalant tone masks the thickness of his voice as he looks at her, eyes tired and weary yet still wearing a half-smile.

She feels the sides of her mouth curl into a smile too. "Nope," she replies as she sets her mug down. "I haven't adjusted well to the neighborhood yet," she admits.

Well, that was a half-truth. She haven't passed the front lawn yet, or even went outside or interacted with others. She was more concerned about the well-being and state of her father after her mother's death. They had moved uptown, yes, and the neighborhood, but despite being in the same city, was a little foreign to her.

She knew why they moved uptown. It was peaceful and quiet.

"Do you want to explore this part of the town?" Her father asks her in an almost quiet tone as he refills his mug with more coffee. "Just a walk in the park or a drink in the nearby cafe with me, if it's alright with you."

"Of course, Dad." Her reply spills out of her mouth too fast, too eager. "I'll come with you." She adds softly.

With it, he chuckles softly, moves closer and hugs her. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She returns it, and she finds that she misses the days where he smiles wider and envelopes her in his arms with the promise of love, safety and protection.

He plants a kiss on her cheek before clambering to get upstairs.

"And for god's sake, Theodosia Burr, please do get off the counter."

And she definitely doesn't miss the smile in his voice as she complies and obediently hops down the counter.

* * *

Half an hour later, her thumbs tapping away on her phone as she sits in the living room, waiting for her father to come downstairs.

She sighs and she puts down her phone. "Dad? Are you coming?" She calls out, peeling off the fluffy blue sweater, leaving her clad in a plain white shirt and leggings and a blue scarf wrapped around her neck as she leans back against the couch.

She hears a grunt. "Yes, honey," she hears him shout back. "It's just that my old man bones are complaining."

She doesn't stop the laugh that bubbles out of her. "You're not as old as you say you are!"

"You're right. I'm forty-six, I'm older than what I say I am!" He shoots back.

"You're being dramatic, Dad."

"Alright, just wait for me downstairs, Theo."

"In thirty minutes?"

"No, for an hour."

"Daaaaaaaad—"

"I'm just joking, Theo. In fifteen minutes."

* * *

Theodosia has this firm belief that time shouldn't be wasted.

Meaning that fifteen minutes in her own father's measurement of time, which meant that it could mean possible half an hour or really an hour, could still be used for something meaningful.

So she puts on her black flats and a pair of gardening gloves, fills the watering can and heads out into the frown lawn.

She begins measuring the exact amount of water necessary for each plant blooming. She's not orderly or as proper and organized as her father, but she loves gardening and planting and she doesn't mind as much being very specific about it.

She carefully snips dead leaves, adds a little fertilizer to each plant that needed nourishment, cuts roots, takes weeds and evenly refills her watering can. It's refreshing and different, tending to her plants in 6 in the morning and in the cold air.

And humming to a very nostalgic tune too.

It helps take her mind off things because it's only her in her own world surrounding by plants.

It doesn't explain why a biker, of all the things that could've distracted her, catches her attention.

Call her out, but she blames her over-attentiveness to her surroundings, like her parents, not the admittedly eye-catching features of the boy itself. She hasn't been out of the house a lot, but she has recognized the general peacefulness of the place, which is why she thinks that it's not everyday a charmingly handsome biker passes by.

(Maybe everyday there was, but that's not her point.)

It's also not everyday said charmingly handsome biker stares back at her.

It makes her feel like the couple of seconds that their gazes meet are an eternity.

(She doesn't mean it like a rom-com where it's only them in the world, smh.)

Okay, not eternity, but long enough.

Oh, God, he doesn't see it he doesn't see it he doesn't see it coming—

"Watch out!"

* * *

**Pip's POV comes next. I'll post it up as soon as possible then decide on how to write the ending, lmao.**

**—Louise**


	2. Chapter 2

**Pip's part is here! Hope you enjoy!**

**P.S I have no idea what I'm doing—**

* * *

It's one of those mornings where Philip Hamilton wakes up with the strong urge to go bike for no reason.

He gives in to it though. Nobody's awake at 5 in the morning, which is why he's extra careful in going down the stairs, unlocking his bike and carrying it outside. He pauses. To be fair, his pop was probably up already before the crack of dawn.

_Shit. Gotta go fast then._

He swings a leg over his bike, balances himself and takes off. He looks back once with a hesitant look at his family mansion.

Philip bikes farther and farther away, trying to ignore the pain in his hip and in his arm and the guilt in his gut. He knows he's going to make his mom and pop freak out, making him feel like a liability to the family because of his injuries and wounds.

_Whatever_, he distracts himself with his surroundings, pedaling faster. He knows it's perfectly reasonable for them to worry over him, given that he was on the verge of death just a couple of months ago, but he just wants a little peace at time to time.

(And whatever they all say, he doesn't just challenge people randomly. Nope, he definitely doesn't. Goerge Eacker and a few others who had declined were just special cases.)

(Don't give him that look.)

He's surprised by the lack of things happening in his life, actually. Granted, they moved uptown to find peace and so very few people would bother them. But it felt so... disappointing? Too quiet?

No. It was too lackluster.

Which is why Philip is also surprised at himself when he finds himself looking at a simple girl in a blue scarf, leggings and a white shirt, gardening on the front lawn.

And he also finds that he can't look away.

_She's annoyingly cute_ is his first thought. And he could tell that much with her halfway facing him.

Then she straightens a little and faces him too, her intelligent eyes peering back at him.

Unlike all the girls he'd dated before and had hanging on his arm, she wasn't any different. If anything, she seemed simpler, like a girl-next-door type of girl. But there was something different and complex at the same time about her that he couldn't wrap his head around.

(Mostly because she was really cute.)

(Shut up.)

"Watch out!"

(When he wakes up, he'd definitely have to watch out for his whole family concerning the bloody nose he was sporting.)

* * *

**Oh, um. I wasn't expecting Pip's POV to be so short. Sorry about that ^^**

**—Louise**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the last part. I'm not satisfied with this (pun intended), but it's all I have right now*. Sorry. **

**Still hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

Theodosia rushes over, dropping her watering can and shoving off her gloves as she rips off her scarf.

"Are you alright?" She asks him as she gently props him up the pole he just drove into and tilts his head up.

"God, my head hurts," he mutters as blood drips from his nose and he pulls himself up. "Wha's going on?"

"You drove into a lamppost," she supplies as she removes a small bottle of alcohol she had in her pocket. "Does anywhere else hurt?"

"Huh?" This time, the boy looks at her directly in the eyes and she only just notices the couple of inches between them.

Oh, fuck, he's hot.

He's sporting a bloody nose.

Still hot.

"Are you hurt?" She repeats, slowly as she folds her scarf.

"I, uh—" He obviously struggles for words as she finds his flustered and confused state endearing.

Where did that come from?

He's just out of breath, Theodosia. Nothing else.

"Just my bloody nose," he winces as he touches his nose and pulls his hand away. "I think."

She visibly relaxes as she slathers some alcohol on the scarf. "Not that serious then."

He nods and they lapse into an awkward and uncomfortable silence as she begins gently dabbing at his bloody nose with the scarf.

"Holy fuck," she hears him whisper in awe. "You're even cuter up close."

Okay, that's more than Theodosia could take. She short-circuits and promptly drops the scarf as they both awkwardly gawk at each other, their faces turning redder as the silence stretched between them.

* * *

On the outside, he was rendered speechless.

On the inside, Philip Hamilton had mentally slapped himself.

Really? He resists the urge to groan out loud. Smooth, Hamilton. What kind of poetic and flowery words were that? Smooth.

Never in his life had he ever wanted as much for the ground to swallow him whole.

He could feel his face reddening, mirroring the girl's own surprised expression as he stares back and oh my God, I can't look away, why can't I look the fuck away, whichever merciful divine being out there, please take me—

The girl slowly blinks mesmerizingly and diverts her eyes to the sidewalk. She manages a nervous light laugh.

"Oh, uh—" she answers back, in the almost awkward tone that mirrors Philip's own before.

Philip's own heart can't take this cuteness. If he was standing upright, he might've stumbled over and got himself another nosebleed.

A mumbled "I'm so, very, really sorry" escapes his own mouth before he could stop it.

She laughs, and immediately it becomes one of Philip's favorite sounds in the world, next to the comforting sound of a pen or pencil scratching on paper. It's not as forced and as nervous as her laugh before. It's light and airy and... just in general— perfect.

He forces out a laugh too, until it comes out easier and until it's a full-on genuine laugh, both of it mixing together as it faintly carried itself down the street.

Huh, he muses. He never expected to spend an early Saturday morning in the quiet neighborhood with a nosebleed, laughing with a cute girl that he never seen before.

"Just slightly lean forward and pinch your nose," she manages through in-between laughs. "That should stop after ten or fifteen minutes."

"Right," he replies with a smile as he follows through with her advice. "To clear it up, I'm sorry for the trouble and I'm thankful for the intervention."

She cracks a small smile with his nasal voice and waves her hand. "Don't mention it."

"I'm also sorry for the, uh, compliment."

"If it makes you feel better, you're charming," she offers as she picks up her bloody and dirty scarf.

"I was expecting to hear hot, but okay."

"Let's start over before we get to that part," she backs up a little, her hands in front of her with a flustered face.

"I'm alright with that. I'm Philip Hamilton."

"Theodosia Burr," she introduces herself as she holds out her hand. He takes it, grips it tight and pulls himself up. "But I go by just Theo."

"Theo, huh? Thanks again," he says sincerely as he hauls his bike up from where it was lying on the sidewalk. He inspected it slowly.

A few scratches, but it was nothing. Thank God, he sighs in relief internally. Pop won't freak out as long as nothing's noticeable.

"Let me help you with that," Theo starts as her hand reaches out.

"Nah," he replies as he straightens it. "Just help me with this."

"With what—"

In one smooth move, his other hand slips it's way back into Theo's outstretched hand and intertwines their fingers together.

Smooth, he congratulates himself.

He hides a small laugh as he watched as Theo's face redden and turn away in an effort to hide her flustered state. "Philip—"

"Philip Hamilton, what are you doing with my daughter?"

* * *

***So, to be honest this is NOT all I had. I have five incomplete drafts of the ending but it was too forced/rushed/angsty/fluffy/weird. Take your pick. Even more forced/rushed than this one.**

**So, uh. I have ideas for a Married!Modern!Phildosia AU. It's gonna be even shorter than this one, but I'm taking it. I'll try to post it tomorrow.**

**Wish me luck. School starts on the eight and I'm so not prepared yet—**

**—Louise**


End file.
